The More Things Change
by Tom O'Bedlam
Summary: The more things change, the more they stay the same. Two boys meet on the Hogwarts Express.
1. A Question of Nomenclature

_**(A/N)** An experiment. Something lighthearted I wrote this summer and hope will actually turn into a proper story. Standard disclaimers apply. Enjoy!_

At eleven o'clock the Hogwarts Express, bright red and steaming, pulled out of King's Cross, as it had every year for nearly a century. Bemused ten-year-olds stared about rather wildly, as they had for going on a century, while superior-looking teenagers swayed up and down the train shrieking and hugging old friends. It was a place of beginnings: the place Molly Prewitt first told off Arthur Weasley, the place Sirius Black hexed Severus Snape for the first time (unless of course Severus Snape hexed Sirius Black first), the place a ten-year-old Bellatrix Black met a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle, the place Harry Potter befriended Ron Weasley. The place the wizarding history of past century was made.

In a compartment by himself, a small, blond boy swung his legs and read a book. The door was thrown violently open, and the boy jerked. He found himself looking at another boy, about his own age, though rather taller, who was yelling into the corridor, "Hey, don't push!"

The boy by the door turned. He had laughing, hazel eyes and an utterly untidy shock of black hair. "Hi. Can I sit here?"

"Sure." The black-haired boy sat down, and for a moment they just looked at each other.

Then the blond boy asked, "Are you new, too, then?"

"As wet paint," the other boy agreed. "I'm James, by the way. James Potter," he added as an after thought.

"Really? Any relation to…you know?"

James made a face. "My Dad, actually. Why, you mad about him or something?"

"Nah. Just surprised, you know."

"What's your name?"

The blond boy's pale skin flushed. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"At your name? All right, all right, I won't."

"Tiberio Constantine Malfoy."

James snorted a little, but didn't actually laugh. Tiberio Constantine Malfoy looked glum beyond belief. "I know. It's awful. You can't even shorten it to anything reasonable."

"How?" James demanded. "How did you end up with a name like that? Didn't someone talk your parents around? I have a cousin who Uncle Percy wanted to name Nigel, but Uncle Ron talked him out of it, thank goodness."

"It was Grandmamma," Tiberio explained. "She said that's what she wanted me called, and Papa didn't complain because he _likes_ Latin names, and Mum didn't complain because she had a cousin who died in the first war named Constantine. But I don't know what I'm going to do for school. I mean, honestly. No one but my family can call anyone Tiberio Constantine with a straight face."

James snickered at the thought of telling his family his best friend was named Tiberio Constantine. "All your family can't call you that. I've just got James and I still seem to have a different nickname for every family member."

"Well, the twins (they're two years younger than me) call me Timmy, but I hate that. Dotty Great Aunt Rilly calls me 'that scrawny boy of Val's' or sometimes 'the Malfoy brat.' She doesn't like Papa at all," Tiberio explained to a hooting James.

"You should definitely introduce yourself as 'the Malfoy brat.' Imagine the looks on people's faces." Tiberio grinned at this too, but persisted.

"Really, though, can you think of anything reasonable?"

James shook his head. "If you don't like Tim, I think you're stuck with Tiberio. It's not so bad without the Constantine, you know."

The door slid open again. A rather stunning seventeen-year-old poked her head in and, seeing Tiberio, grinned "Oh, hello, Tiberio Constantine." James wondered how she managed to make such a mouthful sound so natural. He supposed if one was seventeen and looked like that, some things got easier. "Enjoying your first Hogwarts Express ride?"

Tiberio shrugged. "Well enough. James, that's my second cousin Sophia Lupin. Soph, this is James Potter."

Sophia grinned. "Sophy, please. Only Great-Aunt Narcissa calls me Sophia. Anyway, I'm looking Lucy Hatter, so if you see her…"

She popped out again, and Tiberio muttered, "And we'd know Lucy Hatter because?" before the door opened again.

"Are there no empty compartments on this bloody train?" This girl looked a bit younger than Sophy, perhaps fifteen, and a shock of rather bushy red hair. "Jamie! So this's where you've been. Cheers."

James grinned. "Cheers, Chas. Seems the day for cousins. Tiberio, this is my cousin Charlotte, who goes by every possible variant of it except Charlotte. Chas, this is my friend Tiberio."

"Cheers, Tiberio. D'you have siblings here? You look familiar."

"Sophia Lupin's my second cousin, if you know her."

"Sophy? I guess that's it. You have the same nose. See you about, halflings." And Chas popped out again.

The two boys looked at each other for another minute. "I suppose you have a lot of family here, yeah?" Tiberio finally asked.

"I guess." James didn't sound particularly thrilled by the thought. "Dad works here, of course, Arthur-not-Nigel is Head Boy this year, and Richard's a sixth year prefect. Chas is in fifth year, then there's me. All the rest are younger, except for René and little Gabby, who go to Beauxbatons. Well, René's graduated, but he went there. You?"

"Sort of. I mean Mum was a Fitzgerald, so nearly all my Fitzgerald third cousins are here, but we don't actually know each other. Other than that, there's just Sophia."

"No fair. I have half the family keeping an eye on me. I bet you won't have to see your parents 'till Christmas."

"Not unless something unexpected comes up. Say, what house do you think you'll be in?"

James looked surprise he even bothered to ask. "Gryffindor, I hope. I mean, it's Dad and Mum's old house, and I _really_ want to be in it."

Tiberio made a face. "All very well for you to be so certain. I think I'd like Ravenclaw, but I know Papa and Grandmamma think I'll be in Slytherin."

"They want you to be in Slytherin? I didn't think anyone wanted to be in Slytherin. All the bad wizards came through there."

"Not all, just most." The door had slid open while they were talking, and a girl about their age was leaning in. "Say, can I join you guys? I'm bored of looking at the scenery."

The boys looked at each other, Tiberio noncommittal, James dubious. Then James thought of being forced to sit through the entire train ride alone and, feeling sorry for her, said, "Sure."

The girl slipped in, tossing a thick, black braid over her shoulder. "Why does everyone think Snakes have to be evil?"

"'Cause a lot of them are?" Tiberio suggested, mildly. "Grandmamma is one of the few people I know who's a Slytherin, liked it, and isn't evil. Usually."

"What about your Dad?" James asked. "Thought you said he was in Slytherin, too."

"Yeah, but he won't talk about school. Says he doesn't like who he was then. Which means he was prob'ly evil or unhappy."

James laughed. "My Dad doesn't talk about school much, but that's because I think he thinks it sounds like bragging."

"Why?" the girl asked. "Did he get better grades than Hermione Granger or something?"

"Nah, he's Harry Potter," James said, in a tone of voice that expected to make a sensation.

He was disappointed. "Really. You must be James, then. I'm Calliope Lennox, by the way." She said it so matter-of-factly that James didn't even snicker.

Tiberio, heartened by someone equally cursed with a horrid name, said, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Tiberio Malfoy."

This got the surprise James had hoped for. Calliope jerked around to look at him properly. "Oh, bother. I'd meant to avoid you."

Tiberio drew himself up rather, though he was still shorter than Calliope. He said in a cold voice, "Really?"

Calliope didn't appear to notice. "Yes. Pyramus said there was a Malfoy in my year, and I had to meet him. But just because he and Narcissa Malfoy are practically related does not mean I should be friends with her grandson. So I decided I wanted to make my own friends. Why didn't you say?"

Calliope said this very fast, in a rather abused tone of voice. Tiberio and James couldn't help it. They laughed.

"So what house do you want to be in?" Tiberio asked Calliope a little later.

"Well, Gryffindor sounds like the most fun, but I've absolutely no idea where I'll end up. Pyramus was in Slytherin and so was Gwendolyn, but Mother was a Squib, so maybe they won't have me."

"Who's Pyramus?" James asked.

"My grandfather. But he hates me calling him that. He brought me up because Mother died when I was born and my father wasn't interesting in looking after me," Calliope replied matter-of-factly.

"…Oh."

There was a pause. "So where are you from?" Tiberio asked quickly.

"Hogsmeade," James said cheerfully. "I thought it was idiotic to go all the way to London just to take the train back home again, but Dad insisted that I act just like everyone else."

"I don't see why you should," Calliope said cheerfully. "I mean, everyone'll know you're James _Potter_, so there's no point in going around pretending you're not famous by association. I mean if anyone at school had heard of Corinna Lennox, I'd make sure everyone knew she was my mother."

"Who was she?" Tiberio asked with interest. "The name sounds familiar."

"A poet. Pyramus says she showed great promise, but I don't understand half of the poems. That wouldn't stop me from wanting people to know I was related to her, though."

"I guess. But since I look like Dad, everyone'll know in any case, so actually doing anything out of the way would look like bragging."

"I suppose." Calliope didn't sound entirely convinced, but dropped the subject in favor of Tiberio's original question. "I'm from London, by the way. How about you?"

"London, too," Tiberio said with a grin. "Kensington. You?"

"Posh," Calliope said, raising her eyebrows. "Pyramus lives in Soho, near the theatres. He has ambitions to be an opera ghost."

The compartment door opened again, and a skinny girl with stringy blond that fell in her face peered in. "Say, can I sit here? I just got thrown out of my seat."

"Why?" Calliope asked, gesturing invitingly at the seat across from her.

"'M not posh enough, I guess," the girl said. "Roberta Fisher, by the way. Bobbie, by preference."

"Calliope Lennox."

"James Potter."

"Tiberio Malfoy." Bobbie nodded at Calliope and James and shook the hand Tiberio offered. "So are your families magic?"

Tiberio and James nodded. "My mother was a Squib. Which means my grandparents were, but my mother wasn't," Calliope said. "I take it you're Muggle-born."

"Lord, yes. You should have seen my brother's eyes pop when we went to Diagon Alley."

Someone tapped on the door, and a redhead who looked rather like Chas looked in. "Hello, brat. Said anything to betray your inferior intellect yet?"

"Shut up, idiot," James said cheerfully. "What are you hanging about firsties for, anyway?"

"It's my Prefectly duty to remind you lot to get into your robes now. So this is me telling you." The latter being directed to the whole compartment, he left again.

"That was my cousin Richard," James said, by way of explanation. "He's a prefect because he too clever for his own good, and hates it."

Bobbie giggled. "Do you know lots of people already, then?"

"I guess," James said, as though it hadn't occurred to him to think about it before. "But all of Richard and Arthur-not-Nigel's friends are older and boring, besides."

"Well, I'd best get my robes, then," Calliope said. "See you."

"Me, too," Bobbie said quickly. The two girls left together.

"Say," Tiberio said, staring at the countryside as James tried to find his robes. "How do they decide what house we're in? Dad wouldn't say a word, and Mum kept dropping enticing little tidbits that were _not_ comforting."

"No idea. Mum and Dad won't say. Or rather, they'll say I didn't ask the right questions if I say they wouldn't say. Uncle Fred-and-George hinted at dire things, but since Arthur-not-Nigel's girlfriend (who's dumb as a post) survived, I suppose we will, too."


	2. Subulties and Biscuits and Houses, Oh My

_ **(A/N)** Pure, pointless, non-romantic fluff. Far too much fun to right and ultimately pointless. Thank you to Thessaly, who helped me write the scene with Harry in, and to Padfoot's Sidekick, who actually reviewed the previous chapter. Cheers. Not mine, etc. _

* * *

_Dear Mum,_

_Tell Papa, sorry, I'm in Gryffindor, and, sorrier, I love it. School is great. I spend a lot time with James Potter, who's in Gryffindor and my year, too. He's awesome and unfairly good at Quidditch. If it weren't for that rule about first-years, he'd be on our team for sure. Potions class is pathetically easy, but I'm abysmal at Transfiguration, so I still have masses of homework. Give my love to the twins and tell Papa I'll write him once I've done something worth writing about,_

_Tiberio Constantine Malfoy_

"Well, that was a full day," Elihu Douglass said, dropping his bag on the floor of their room in Gryffindor tower. The other first years, following him into the room, flopped onto bed and chairs.

"I'm going to fail Potions," James Elliot observed, bouncing on his bed experimentally. "I can already tell. Charms was massively fun though. Did you see the way Professor Simon turned the what's-her-name's pebble into a bunch of feathers when it exploded?"

"Her name's Bobbie," James Potter said. "I don't think I'm going to fail Potions, which is weird, because neither of my parents were much good at it. Now I might fail History of Magic, because I'll fall asleep in all the lectures."

"Bobbie?" said James Elliot. "That's not a girl's name."

"It's short for Roberta," said Tiberio. "I didn't get what Professor Grenville was saying in Transfiguration at all. Did you?"

The other boys shook their heads. "I can't believe he's already given us prep," said Eli.

"So's Professor Austin," said Elliot gloomily. "It's not fair. I want a few days to accustom myself to the fact I can do crazy things with a wooden stick, before I have to something so immeasurably dull as prep."

The others laughed, and James Potter said, "Are you Muggleborn, then?"

Elliot nodded. "You?"

The others all shook their heads. "Say," said Tiberio. "When you learn history in Muggle school how do they leave all the magic out of it? I mean, how in Merlin's name can you even begin to discuss the Civil War without Cromwell's use of wizards in the army?"

"Do you actually have ways to talk to each other while you're doing anything at all? Little black boxes, mobulus or something?" Eli said.

"Is it true that you really don't know anything about wizarding world? Not anything at all, I mean?" James Potter asked.

Elliot blinked at them for a minute, then said, "Yeah, I mean I'd never heard of anything like the wizarding world before I got my Hogwarts letter. I mean, when I was little I used to always beat everyone at go fish because I always seemed to know what cards they had, but everyone always said that was just luck. Most Muggles just don't believe in magic, you know. They like to think up other explanations for it."

Three descendents of ancient wizarding families blinked at him for a minute, then Tiberio voiced the communal thought, "Not _believe_ in magic? But how can you…I mean, it just there, yeah? It's like not believing in, in Europe."

They all laughed at that. "Dad always said it was like us not knowing about the oil crisis. I mean, we wouldn't believe in it because we don't know anything about it."

There was a pause. "What's the oil crisis?" Tiberio asked.

"A thing the Muggles had?" James suggested. "I don't know. It's just what Dad said."

"Your Dad's _Harry Potter_, isn't he?" Eli asked, in a rather awed voice.

"Yeah."

"What's he like?"

"Who's Harry Potter?"

"He defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Eli said. "It was in the last war the wizarding world had against a Dark Wizard, and Harry Potter killed him in the end. And defeated him the first time."

"What?"

"In the 90s, there was a really evil wizard, and James's Dad managed to kill him, thus preventing mass slaughter and bloodshed," Tiberio explained prosaically. "If you want more details, you could ask Professor Binns next lesson. Maybe he wouldn't be able to the make it as boring as he does the role of wizarding government in Roman Britain."

"Is that what he was talking about today?" James asked, distracted.

Tiberio nodded. "And I think it would interesting if he talk in such a monotone all the time, but as it is, the lesson just goes on and on forever."

"No kidding. I liked Professor Longbottom, though. How often do we have Herbology?"

"Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays," said Tiberio, frowning at their schedule. "Look, we have astronomy in the middle of the night."

"Cool." Eli leaned over Tiberio's shoulder. "Hey, tea started ten minutes ago. Anyone remember how to get to the Great Hall?"

* * *

_Dear Grandmamma,_

_Well, I'm at Hogwarts now. You were right; it is a perfectly splendid place. As you predicted, the work isn't too hard yet, though I am a complete dunce at Transfiguration. Do you have any advice?_

_Tell Phineus Nigellus to go to the Gryffindor tower if he wants to find me; I've broken a ten-generation tradition and ended up in Gryffindor, and worse yet, am completely unapologetic about it. I would I have been in Slytherin to please the family, but, as you know, I didn't really have much choice. Calliope Lennox, who says her family knows you, is also in Gryffindor, as is Elihu Douglass, who must be some sort of cousin. What was the Douglass connection, again?_

_Oh, yes, it appears pets are permissible again. Can you send Dante when you can spare someone to bring him? I miss them both horribly, but I know you prefer Beatrice. Thanks, and much love,_

_Tiberio Constantine Malfoy_

"I thought you'd already finished your essay?" asked James, who hadn't.

"I have. I'm just writing my family."

"Already? We haven't even been here a week yet."

"I know. But I thought I'd break the bad news to them as early as possible. Besides, I want Grandmamma to send one of my cats, now it turns out that we can have pets." Tiberio sprawled across his bed, feet on his pillow, so he could talk to James, who needed the entire floor space to spread things around, if he was to get anything done.

"Why your grandmother? Don't your cats live at home?"

Tiberio laughed. "Not on your life. They won't let anyone near them but me, and Mum and Papa outlawed them years ago when Beatrice scratched Antonia."

"So why does your grandmother agree to keep them?"

"She doesn't have a choice." Tiberio stretched blissfully. "Techniquely, I own her house."

"What?!" Tiberio had never struck James as too posh, but that was just ridiculous. Now that he thought about it, James supposed Tiberio did have an awful lot of expensive stuff in his trunk.

"The Manor hates Papa, so he gave it to me as a Christening gift. Grandmamma isn't a Malfoy by birth, you see, so she can't own it. Since she looks after everything, though, I don't actually have much say in the running of anything, but I can make minor demands, like it being a home for my cats."

* * *

_Dear Tiberio Constantine,_

_I received yours of the fifth. I'm glad to hear you're happy at Hogwarts, though I cannot be pleased with the results of the Sorting. Things have changed since my day, however, and I am sure you will find suitable friends whenever you are. I know your friend Calliope's relation, Pyramus Austin, quite well. I believe you have met him once or twice yourself, dear, and I have certainly read you his poetry. He does the prettiest work._

_I will tell Phineus Nigellus, though he does not spend a great deal of time at Hogwarts these days, except when the Headmaster needs him, of course. And I will look up the Douglass connection, if you particularly wish, but I believe it is somewhat distant._

_You mentioned your work only in passing, I believe. Are you enjoying History as much at school as you did here? I hope the library is as good as I remember it. Who is the current Potions teacher? I understand they prevailed upon Mr. Slughorn to return for a brief period in the nineties, but I quite lost track after that. For Transfiguration, I suggest you look through some of the theoretical works of Gaius Maximus. I believe your father sent the family copy to Hogwarts when he was clearing out the Manor library, so the school library should have it._

_As for the cats, I shall be delighted to send you Dante, and I suggest you apply for permission to keep Beatrice at school, as well. She is the better tempered of the two, but she gets nearly as bad when both you and Dante are away._

_Your grandmother,_

_Narcissa Black Malfoy_

_P.S. I thought you might find the quills useful, and the other is a little something to indulge your boyish need for sugar. N.B.M._

"Biscuits!" James exclaimed, as a brown barn owl dropped one of its four packages at his place, before heading toward the other red heads at the Gryffindor table. "I love Uncle Ron. I really do. Say, who's that from? And what is that?"

A snowy owl had landed in front of Tiberio, a faintly scented letter on thick paper with an engraved header in its beak, and an elegant package wrapped in silver tissue paper in its claws. "Grandmamma," Tiberio said, taking the letter from the owl's beak, slitting the forest green seal, and skimming the contents. "The box has quills (how does she always know just what I need?) and sweets. Yes, Adonis, you may have some toast."

"Was that letter actually sealed properly? Who does that?" Eli Douglass asked incredulously.

"My grandmamma. She thinks it's still 1900," Tiberio grinned as he pulled off the tissue paper. The quills were eagle feather, with three different sizes of silver nibs. The sweets were spun sugar decals and marzipan figures of racing brooms.

"Wow. My grandmother would never send anything that elaborate," James said around mouthful of ginger biscuit.

"Want to trade?" Tiberio asked hopefully, pushing the box toward James.

"No, thank you. I like Uncle Ron's biscuits much better."

Tiberio sighed. "I was worth a try. I hate almond." He put the pens in his school bag, and offered the sweets to Eli and James Elliot, who sat across from them. "Subtleties, anyone?"

"Subtleties?"

"It's what they're called."

"You're a subtlety. Or possibly just archaic. How do you eat those for breakfast?" Calliope joined them (late, as usual; she was not a morning person, and after she gave Roberta Fisher a black eye, her roommates considerately let her sleep in as late as she wanted) and shuddered as Eli nibbled a marzipan broom.

* * *

"Hey, Mum, what's a subtlety, exactly?" 

"What, dear?" Ginny Weasley said absently, stirring the closest pot. "Harry! Dinner!"

"I _said_, what's a subtlety?" James repeated patiently.

"Normally it's not a noun," Ginny started spooning curry into bowls. "Why do you ask?"

"My mate Tiberio got a package from his grandmum with these subtlety things - see," he waved a marzipan broomstick he thought was an old Nimbus make. He'd abstracted one that morning and meant to eat it, then put it on his night table and forgotten. Only nutters like Eli ate marzipan in the morning.

"Oh." Ginny sat down, stood up again, and yelled, "_Harry!_ Get in here now!" She sat down for a second time. "Jamie, that looks like desert - eat your curry first."

James rolled his eyes. "Mum."

"Hello, James." His father had come in wiping broomstick varnish off his hands. "Well? I haven't gotten a detention notice yet, but I'm not going to give up hope - you have a record to beat."

"Oh?" James tried not to look too curious.

"Ron's Chas got a detention her first day for trying to break into the Slytherin common room." Harry shook his head. "Silly girl. I could have told her where it is, and so could Ron."

"She did drop a lot of inquisitive hints," Ginny suggested.

"But she didn't ask the _right_ questions," said Harry. James rolled his eyes. He'd been hearing that one for a long time.

"Did she find it?" he asked hopefully.

"I should imagine," said Harry tranquilly. "It's fairly easy to find."

"Oh well." James shrugged. "I didn't get detention. Sorry Dad."

"On the whole," said Harry, "I think that's all right."

"Met some new people," said James. "The boys in my house are loads of fun."

"Oh?" Harry nibbled his curry. "Remind me who that is again."

"Harry," said Ginny. "Weren't you paying attention?"

"Not really."

"Well, it's your own fault if you don't know then."

"There's me," said James. "Then Elihu Douglass, James Elliot, couple of girls, Calliope Lennox, and," he took a deep breath for the final flourish, "Tiberio Constantine Malfoy."

"Excuse me?" His father coughed. Ginny patted him on the back.

"Really?" she said. "Draco Malfoy's son?"

"Dunno," James gulped down more curry. "Guess so. I think his grandmother's called Primrose or Lilac or Narcissa or something…you all right, Dad?"

"Fine," said Harry when he could breath again.

"Draco named his son Tiberio Constantine?" said Ginny. She looked like she was trying not to laugh.

"_Please_ don't tell him I gave his full name - I promised not to."

"I'd have seen it soon enough," said Harry. "I do get rosters."

"You just don't read them," interjected Ginny. She looked at her son. "No, of course Harry won't let on. But you know, your dad was at Hogwarts with," her mouth quivered, "Tiberio's father."

"Little more than that," said Harry, looking a bit like he did when enterprising Slytherins had cut off their water supply. Very grim.

"What happened?" Normally James didn't ask questions because they never got answered, but this seemed like his lucky night.

"Never mind," said Ginny. "Who wants pudding?"

"Hey, Dad," said James, distracted, "what's a subtlety?"

"Lord, I didn't know," said Harry. "You might ask Aunt Hermione when you see her next."

"Well, what's this?" James compromised, thrusting the marzipan broomstick at his father.

"It looks like desert," said Harry. He squinted at it. "What make is it? You tell me."

"Dunno," said James. "Some kind of old Nimbus?"

"That my son," said Harry Potter, "is a Nimbus 2000. It was the first broom I ever owned."

"Oh, _that one_," answered James, having heard many stories about the famed Nimbus. Most people's parents told stories, but Dad's were much better and completely (or mostly, said Aunt Hermione) true.

Harry laughed. "Yes, that one. Where did you get that?" he added, as his son rendered the broomstick flightless by eating the tailpiece.

"Tiberio," said James, licking his fingers. "Uncle Ron sent me biscuits but Tiberio's grandmother send him these marzipan goodies."

Ginny, doing something with dishes, began to laugh. "He always did have lots of sweets at school," she said. "I suppose that makes sense."

"It's very good," offered James.

"I'm sure it is," said Ginny. "Only the best for the Malfoys."

"Oh, and guess what," James added, eager to boast about his new friend, "Tiberio owns a _house_! How come I don't own a house, Dad?"

Harry spluttered again. "James, _we_ don't even own a house."

"Harry…." Ginny rolled her eyes. "We might as well - it's yours in perpetuity."

"What does that mean?"

"We get this house until your Dad retires."

"Hey, Dad, what if you keep teaching after you're dead, like Professor Binns? Then what happens to the house?"

"Well, presumably I don't _need_ a house any more, so it goes to somebody else."

"Wait, James, did you say this friend of yours owns a house?" Ginny paused in the doorway

"Yeah," said James, a bit of envy in his voice. "He's madly rich. He calls it the manor and uses it to keep cats. And his grandmother."

"Draco gave Malfoy Manor to his _son_?" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Heavens."

"Maybe Val had something to do with it," Ginny suggested. "She's never been keen on architecture."

"Maybe," said Harry fatalistically. "I suppose I'll meet this bloke next week won't I?"

"I should think," said James, perfectly satisfied that his new friend had made an impression.


	3. Peculiar Things from the Malfoy Library

**_(A/N)_**_ Hello. I'm sorry I haven't written in so long (that is if anyone is actually reading this. Though if they're not, I'm sorry I'm not writing anything the great reading public wants to read). I never write entertaining author notes or disclaimers, so we'll skip them (you know it's not mine, right?) and get straight to the grovelling for reviews. Please, please, pretty please?_

Dear Grandmamma,

Thank you very much for the pens. How do you exactly the things I need always? And thank you for sending Dante. He loves Gryffindor tower nearly as well as I do, though he doesn't like the other fellows at all. They've learnt not to bother him already. I'm not allowed to have Beatrice too, unfortunately; I did ask.

History is still taught by Professor Binns, and classes are the dullest things imaginable, but I love doing the work. Speaking of which, I think I left Fitzgerald's _Goblins to the Right of Them_ at the Manor when I was there this summer. Could you send it to school? I want it for comfort reading. The Potions Master is Professor Austin. She's a very good teacher, I think. She explains things very well, but only once, so you have to pay attention. I tried to get the Maximus, but the librarian said it was in the Restricted section, and I couldn't read it unless my teacher signed that I needed it. So I went to see Professor Grenville, and he said he didn't think it would be worth the time I'd spend struggling over the translation, and I had much better spend my time learning the assigned books. I do not like Professor Grenville.

We start flying lessons this afternoon, so I must close now. Much love,

Tiberio Constantine Malfoy

Harry Potter usually found the first flying lesson of the year rather a dull business. Most of the children flew very badly, or not at all, and the few who did know a thing or two about the business put on so many airs that one would think they flew professionally. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw group had been this exact mix. The Gryffindor/Slytherin one looked more interesting. For one thing, there was Jamie, who knew perfectly well how to fly, but had promised faithfully not to show off on the first day. Then there was the Malfoy brat, who owned a house, if he'd been telling Jamie the truth.

Jamie and the Malfoy brat (it could be no other, not that bleached blond hair) were walking out together, clearly involved in some all-important scheme.

Seeing his father's eyes on him, James waved frantically. Malfoy looked up and Harry found himself confronted with the image of a juvenile Draco Malfoy: sharp, slightly ferrety features; short, pale hair; pale, blue eyes; fine, expensive, new robes. The only thing missing was the looming presence of this generation's Crabbe and Goyle.

Looking quickly away, Harry gave his usual lecture about flying, intended to reassure the muggleborns, but also depress the arrogance of wizarding children who thought they knew what they were doing.

"Why do you have to this particular book?" James muttered under cover of the reaction to The Harry Potter as flying instructor.

"'Cause Grandmamma's theory lessons always helped me before, and I don't want to fail Transfiguration," Tiberio murmured back, eyes on Harry. "But apparently it doesn't circulate."

"Right, now for practicalities. Everyone stand by a broom. Hold your hand over it and say 'Up!'"

"Up!" James's broom leapt into his hand at once, as did Eli's. Tiberio's twitched, and Calliope's didn't move at all. After several tries, everyone finally got theirs up and mounted it. Tiberio rubbed his hands on his robe, then gripped his broom carefully. He'd only been on his father's old broom a few times and hated it rather. Heights were bad enough, but heights on a wobbly bit of wood were worse.

"Right. Take it easy now. When you're ready, push off gently, then come down again. I don't care if you can outrun airplanes at home, you're not to go much of anywhere right here and you're not to go higher than four feet in the air. Is the clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter," came the ragged chorus. There was a pause, then James pushed off, hovered exactly four feet above the ground, then dropped again. He'd promised faithfully not to show off. Too much. Heartened by his example, everyone else began to try, too. Calliope wobbled a little too high before scowling at her broom and steadying to a lower height. Gulping, Tiberio pushed off a little, floated perhaps a foot off the ground before returning quickly to solid earth.

"James, did you mean it when you said you wanted to sneak out some night?"

"Yes! Dad practically said I could, and he and Mum seem to have snuck out all the time. I bet it's not hard. Besides, Uncle Ron told me how to find the kitchens."

"Can we go somewhere else first?"

"Where? What do you want to-"

"Shh. Austin's looking at us."

"If you are quite finished, Potter, Malfoy…?"

"Sorry, Professor."

"Now, as I was saying, today we'll be considering Veritaserum. Can anyone tell me what Veritaserum is?"

Several hands went up. "Douglass?"

"It makes you tell the truth."

"Very good. A point to Gryffindor. Does anyone know anything else? Kim?"

"Most common restorative potions are related to it, but Veritaserum is one of most complicated to make, requiring rare ingredients such as ashwinder skin and six months brewing time." Gryffindor eyed Hyung Kim with slight dislike. Calliope had once said (after he had earned Slytherin twenty points for a perfect astronomy paper) that one skinny Chinese boy who knew so much clearly couldn't be bearable and was glad he wasn't in her house. "And there's no antidote and you can't resist it."

"Very good. Five points to Slytherin. Yes, Malfoy?"

Tiberio usually didn't say much during Potions, having no urge to be considered in the same category as Kim. But Malfoy Manor had an excellent library, and he'd always liked to read. "That's not true. Small doses can be resisted by the strong-minded, or a skilled Occlemens. And Julia Desmoulins developed an antidote in 1980, though the side effects were so unpleasant that I don't think anyone could ever have used it."

Professor Austin blinked at Tiberio. The rest of the class just stared. Tiberio flushed a painful pink, looked down, and muttered, "Well, she did."

"You're quite right about the ability of Occlemens to resist the potion. Two points to Gryffindor. Where did you hear of the antidote?"

"It was in a book at home. Notes, I think it was," Tiberio told his shoes.

"Ah," said Professor Austin. "Well, I don't know if I'd call something with 'unpleasant side effects' an antidote. Regardless, Kim was quite correct in his description of the potion. Today we're interested in it's relation to other sleeping potions…"

"Remind me why we're going here again?"

"I want that book. You didn't _have_ to come."

"'Course I did. It just that I-"

"Shh." Tiberio cut him off with a sharp gesture, and James was so surprised at the air of command in his unassuming friend he shut up. They'd just reached the library, and James heard, as Tiberio must have done, the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor. They dodged into the library, shut the door and stood listening. The footsteps moved, without pausing, past the library and down the hall. James, taking his cue from Tiberio, waited a few minutes in the dead silence before beginning to breath and move again.

"So where's this book you need?"

"The Restricted Section. Lumos." The tip of Tiberio's wand began to glow faintly, and he made his way across the library. James hurried after him.

"How did you know that? We haven't done it yet, I know."

"Grandmamma used to lend me her wand when I want to explore the Manor, and she taught some basic spells so I came back alive. Besides, I've been learning Latin for ages. For basic spells, you can usually just translate." Tiberio glanced at James's flabbergasted face. "What, didn't your father ever teach you stuff?"

"Yeah, how to stay on a broom. And Mum told me the Bat-Bogey Hex, for just in case, she said. But never…hey, did you say Restricted Section?"

Tiberio nodded, and holding his wand up to the bookshelf, reached for a leather-bound volume. James knocked his hand down. "We can't take a book from here! They scream. Dad said."

"Not this one." Tiberio said grimly. "At least it had better not scream at me." And before James could stop him again, he pulled the fat, gilt-edged book from its place and tucked it into his dressing gown pocket after a quick glance at the title page. "Come on, we'd best get back."

James found himself left gaping for the second time that night. Catching up with Tiberio at the door, he began, "How did that happen? Dad said-"

"I'll tell you when we get back. Let's go."

"So, explain, or I tell Madame Pince you pinched a book from the Restricted Section." James and Tiberio sat in the stairway outside their dorm, back safe, though there had been a close call with Arthur-not-Nigel Weasely as they'd almost reached the Fat Lady. Fortunately, James had heard him coming, and there had been an unused classroom handy.

"It's pretty simple, really. Malfoy Manor puts a spell of all the books there like the ones they put on the Restricted Section, and I figured no one would have thought to get rid for most of it. No book that's been in a Malfoy library would ever scream at a Malfoy for opening it. Happy? I want to go to bed."

Dear Tiberio Constantine,

I am arranging my annual New Year's Party, and I was wondering if there were any friends you particularly wanted to invite. I shall be inviting Celia Chamberlin and Calliope Lennox, of course, but if you wished to have a particular friend over to stay for a few nights before and after, I will dispatch an invitation to the parents. Do reply soon, dear, as I must issue the invitations in a timely manner. Love,

Narcissa Black Malfoy

"Tiberio! Hurry up, or we'll be late."

"Coming!" Tiberio grabbed his scarf, and ran to join the other first years flooding to the Quidditch pitch for the first game of the season. He caught up with James just as they reached the risers, and they claimed the highest seats they could find. James had wanted to be on the team, but his father obstinately refused to bend the rules, so they had to be content to cheer for Chas.

The Gryffindor team was a strong one, and James was secretly glad of his father's refusal to favor him; he wasn't sure he could have made it on, and Quidditch was one thing he felt it due to the family honor to live up to.

They won, and there was a party in the common room, but Tiberio and James and Eli all had to leave early because they hadn't finished the four-foot Transfiguration essay Professor Grenville had set them. They settled down to work: Tiberio with his feet on his pillow, James on the floor, and Eli at his desk. Then Eli moved to his bed. Then he threw his quill across the room and declared that it was pointless and he was joining the party again, because he couldn't do Transfiguration at all. Which, Tiberio pointed out after he left, was a lie. Eli was definitely best at Transfiguration in their year, but he seemed to it all by instinct, and could never explain in essay form what it was he did. Professor Grenville loved him.

Twenty minutes later, James finished his third foot, and glanced up at Tiberio, who had their textbook open on one side, and was consulting the Restricted Book on the other. In front of him lay maybe two and a half feet of neat, precise, tiny writing. James stretched and peered at the book they'd gone to such bother to liberate from the library. "Is that even English?" he asked, blinking at the calligraphic type.

"Hmm?" Tiberio finished a sentence with an emphatic jab of his quill. "No, it's Latin. Grandmamma was right, you know, this does make the theory much clearer. I don't know why he doesn't just teach us this. How are we supposed to remember the sanguinolentus words when we don't know where they came from?"

"Pardon?" James asked as Tiberio aggressively began another paragraph. Tiberio, murmuring, "…experiments done by Artos in the early Augustinian period prove…" to himself, appeared not to have heard. James shrugged, firmly convinced Tiberio was a touch nutty (stealing a book was pointless enough; stealing a book in Latin didn't bear thinking about), and tried to think of what else there was to say in his last foot.


End file.
